[He takes them down one of the quieter side streets beside the hotel, stiff-backed and silent. Finding a legitimately empty spot is hard to do, in this place, but he does his best. He's not quite as eager to share the details of what happened with all of Selena VII, or at least not as much as Pilot seems to.
When he's satisfied, he turns to face Hinata fully, rubbing his temple. Eye contact is a struggle, but he manages it.]
I suppose I don't have to ask how much he told you. [Once you get to "killed and killer" the details aren't all that important.] I'm assuming it's not the "what" and "how" of what happened that you're interested in.
[no comment is forthcoming for the quiet(er) side street they stop on; eyes glance about once before refocusing on Anders, head bowed slightly as though anticipating anger. But anger wasn't the culprit here -- Anders could have led him anywhere, and he'd still be surprised by the first statement.]
[Pilot and he truly so little relation, then...?]
[it made his heart twist (his mouth, too, twisted to the side before thinning), but that was for later. He reminded himself he didn't really know anything, not beyond what Pilot - killer and killed, as opposed to Anders - told him. Thus, as levelly as he could be,]
He couldn't tell me why you chose him. [a beat. -- wait,] He didn't send me, but I-- knowing why for something like that, that's... important.
[Especially since they did have to work together, but that could be read in his very being here.]
Right. Yes. No, I understand. You can tell him, if you want. If he wants to know.
[He'd been surprised when Pilot didn't ask at the time, but in retrospect he thinks it maybe should have been obvious why not. It doesn't make him feel any better.]
How much do you know about the assignment they gave us? The rules of it.
[It's the first creep of something other than resignation and regret in his tone -- he says rules with a curled edge of disgust. From his perspective, the assignment was nothing more than a power play by the instructors; the only value was showing the recruits who was really in control.]
[in honesty,] I don't think he knows whether or not he does.
[because who wouldn't want to know? follows simple logic to the point that it shouldn't even be a thought. and yet, it's hard to forget the deadened voice and blunt recitation - intimidating in its own way, impressionable beyond that.]
Only... [so not much. during the moment, he lacked the courage to ask. afterward, the general consensus seemed to be shove it down. they'd had a planet to destroy, and a destroyed planet to escape from, and assessments, and a whole plethora of likewise excuses, and--] ... Blue team members choose whether to kill or be killed, and by whom.
[silence drawn in order to consider his next words - rules, not opinions.]
I'd thought people had to choose friends, but [considering Anders' tone, it was no wonder,] you two aren't, are you?
"Friends" isn't exactly the word I'd use, no. [A smile, thin and strained.] We don't get along much at all. We never have, even... before.
[Before all this. Things have actually been slightly more civil between them in the aftermath, but only because he can't bring himself to be so antagonistic towards Pilot anymore. It'd feel petty and hypocritical otherwise.]
The assignment wasn't about friendship. It was about trust. Or, well. That's what they said, anyway. You have to understand, they didn't give us a guarantee that anyone would come back. They told us we could tell people they would try, but they didn't promise anything. And my world is.... [He shakes his head.] I couldn't — can't — abandon it, not the way things are right now.
[trust - the missing key word, but it fit as well as any of the other guidelines. an impeccably small nod for no guarantee-- he may not have been aware of the mission's parameters at the time, but that much had been made clear to anyone in camp.]
[... but then he wondered if Anders spoke too much, words running long and piling on top of each other. something restless settled in Hinata's chest, twisted and festered.]
So you picked him because you trusted he'd go along with it?
[with an accusing edge he didn't catch until too late to stopper, gaze narrowing.]
[There's no denying the burst of frustration, of defensiveness. Wording it like that makes it sound so— simple, methodical. Like he made a list and checked off options. He can't blame Hinata for coming to that conclusion, not really, but it was a tangled mess. It still is, and he hates the idea that anyone could think the choice came that easily.]
But do you even want to know why? Really? Or are you just here to confirm what you think you already know?
[bias was inevitable - admitting it, however? recognizing and eliminating it, both together, posed far too difficult a combination. it wasn't until Anders' snapped reply that he even became aware, a moment that had him stepping back once before regaining his composure.]
[prickling in indignation (as if he had any right, now having been put in the situation in the least), the defensiveness doesn't leave as much as it lines his posture, which for Hinata was smothering it but that didn't mean anything for his actual conversational partner.]
[after a terse pause, voice half begrudging, half continued, genuine interest in understanding,]
I didn't message you just to glare and walk away, if that's what you're saying.
The real question is, are you actually going to listen.
[It's not inflected like a question. It's a familiar sensation, being judged as a criminal before all the facts are out. It's just that this time, Hinata's not necessarily wrong.]
He asked me once, you know, before all of this. If I would trust him. If I would... take a chance, I suppose. He said he trusted me, he trusted the CDC, he trusted everyone on the crew because— well, because. You know how he is.
I told him no. [beat] I told him it didn't work that way. That trust had to be earned.
[He takes a deep breath, and he can't maintain eye contact. He studies the scuffs on the toes of his boots instead.]
Pilot, he... [he struggles a little to find the right words.] He believes in the CDC. Or, he believes in this, at least, the crew, in doing whatever it is we're tasked to do. Asking him, I thought.... It wasn't asking someone to blindly die for me or for my world, it could be for the crew. For something he believed in. It could give the death some— small bit of meaning, instead of just slaughter on orders.
[He snags again on simmering anger at the end, and he rubs his hands roughly over his face to quash it. The whole assignment was pointless, suffering inflicted simply because it could be, and any time he thinks about it for more than just a passing moment, he has to bring himself down all over again. He doesn't feel like he was successful, giving it meaning.]
It doesn't make it better. If you want to blame me for what happened to him, you won't see argument from me. [His voice rasps slightly, weighed down with everything he's been carrying since it happened. He hadn't voiced all of this to anyone, before today.] But that's why.
[biting the inside of his cheek, the words don't pass the sudden lump in his throat. he'd felt hot with incredulity not a moment before, but that moment hadn't included Anders' explanation, and as the magician spoke - anger ebbed, abated, replaced piece by piece with dread. asking Pilot to die for something he blindly believed in didn't strike him as any better than asking a person to die for their trusted ally; asking a person to die at all, then, wasn't that the problem?]
[yes, it was.]
[indiscernible, lacking in merit, Pilot carried a belief not at all enviable. Anders-- he'd approached the man with an obvious bias that couldn't disappear with a single explanation, no matter how idealistic it was. however, it could be smothered under heavier thoughts, and so.]
He... [eventually, one hand tugging at his shirt's hem.] ... Couldn't've said no. And that's on you.
[this is fact.]
But that doesn't make you any more guilty than the rest, as the only point seemed to be to find people who wouldn't decline. So your only real fault's in following orders, and I-- [don't know. mouth twisting down, shoulders hunching defensively, every line derisive,] - I think we all destroyed a planet under orders, so how can I really blame you?
[He couldn't've said no. The way Anders' face pinches miserably, it's clear he knew that, too. Rationalization has always been a talent of his, putting pretty wrapping on ugly things. While that doesn't make everything he's said so far any less true, it does draw back the curtain on the thought that's been following him around since the night he met Pilot in the fog: Did I take advantage?]
Easily. [His voice is hollow.] I blame me. I wish he would, most days.
Are you kidding? [mood whiplash, but somehow - where he'd been ready to walk away with some level of understanding, that single sentence flipped everything on its head. As before, his face snapped into the picture of anger in a blink.] Just because it'd make it easier for you?
[hands curled into fists despite the fact Anders could've easily leveled him with one blow. Pilot? Blame him for what he'd done willingly? And give up that small meaning to an otherwise pointless ordeal? That just--- added insult to fatal injury.]
[And he hasn't asked it of Pilot, as much as he'd wanted to. As nauseating as it has been, to watch Pilot celebrate his newfound faith in the CDC and his goddess, the most Anders could bring himself to ask was not to be thanked for it.]
[incredulity burst into outright fury; regardless of how it must have made for an absurd picture with their differences in height and weight, Hinata moved to close the distance and put them chest to chest, teeth bared.]
Tell him why. Talk to him honestly; maybe you'll get rid of some of that pathetic self-pity.
[There's a shift, for the first time in this entire conversation. His body language thus far has been limp, defeated; now his weight cants forward, and he draws himself up to full height. Fight creeps back into him, a response to the insult, to the direct threat of aggression, no matter how disproportionate they may be. Smaller people than Hinata have been bigger threats to him before.]
Yes. And you're in the perfect position to give advice, aren't you? You've put a gun to an innocent person's head and shattered their skull to protect what's important to you.
[He breathes in slowly, and visibly forces himself to back down. Hinata isn't wrong, but Anders is stubborn, and tied at the hip to his own self-flagellation. He isn't likely to take the suggestion.
His chin drops and he takes a step back to reclaim the space between them: restraint.]
[Anders shows restraint; backs up, gives them breathing room, offers a clear exit. doesn't deny anything - agrees, even, though he'd have to be more of a fool to take that as an agreement that he'd say anything. Hinata takes none of it -- crowds in again, hands raising to attempt to grasp onto the front of the other's clothing and give a harsh shove.]
[logic dictated he should've backed off someone able to own up to being a murderer. so much for that.]
You've killed. Under orders! Why are you so cowardly?
You have absolutely no idea, do you? [A snarl of real anger. He lets Hinata come at him, even as his hands clench at his sides to keep himself from retaliating, but he holds his ground this time. He doesn't bend as easily as he might have a few minutes ago.] I did it because I didn't have a choice. Not a real one. The CDC can dress it up however they like, but we all know they got what they wanted.
[Fear. Brutality. An understanding of how heavy the hand of the organization is against their backs of their necks.]
But it didn't have to be him. It could have been me. I have to live with that, and so does he. [His volume has dipped, an active attempt to reduce attention from passersby. It might be pointless now.] If that's not enough for you— then it isn't enough. Nothing I say will change that. But don't stand here and act like it's simple.
[anger meets anger; Hinata's doesn't bend, his hands remaining clenched at his sides, eyes narrowed and expression furious. sure, the CDC got what they wanted-- the CDC seemed to always get what they wanted at the end- it'd been a lesson necessary in its pointlessness, something he'd learned to acknowledge without acceptance.]
[mouth opens around if that's not enough for you -]
[- and snaps closed as the last line pulls him out of his single-minded frustration and sticks his feet a little more on the ground. not spectacularly. the anger doesn't disappear, only dissipate, and even then, only a touch. any attention they get from passer-bys goes right over his head.]
It's not-- that's not-- [except it sort of was. shuffling a step back, head lowering.]
Your explanation was plenty. [the due thank you can't make it out of his throat.] That's all you had to answer.
[so maybe it would be best to go. he can't really force himself to make the first step, either.]
I didn't have to answer anything. [The only person he ever really had to answer to in all this was Pilot.] I just thought that if someone cared to ask, they deserved the truth.
If you're finished.
[A dismissal. If Hinata doesn't want to be the first to leave, Anders is happy to do the honors for him. He steps around and past him, back towards the open brightness of the main street.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
When he's satisfied, he turns to face Hinata fully, rubbing his temple. Eye contact is a struggle, but he manages it.]
I suppose I don't have to ask how much he told you. [Once you get to "killed and killer" the details aren't all that important.] I'm assuming it's not the "what" and "how" of what happened that you're interested in.
no subject
[Pilot and he truly so little relation, then...?]
[it made his heart twist (his mouth, too, twisted to the side before thinning), but that was for later. He reminded himself he didn't really know anything, not beyond what Pilot - killer and killed, as opposed to Anders - told him. Thus, as levelly as he could be,]
He couldn't tell me why you chose him. [a beat. -- wait,] He didn't send me, but I-- knowing why for something like that, that's... important.
[Especially since they did have to work together, but that could be read in his very being here.]
no subject
[He'd been surprised when Pilot didn't ask at the time, but in retrospect he thinks it maybe should have been obvious why not. It doesn't make him feel any better.]
How much do you know about the assignment they gave us? The rules of it.
[It's the first creep of something other than resignation and regret in his tone -- he says rules with a curled edge of disgust. From his perspective, the assignment was nothing more than a power play by the instructors; the only value was showing the recruits who was really in control.]
no subject
[because who wouldn't want to know? follows simple logic to the point that it shouldn't even be a thought. and yet, it's hard to forget the deadened voice and blunt recitation - intimidating in its own way, impressionable beyond that.]
Only... [so not much. during the moment, he lacked the courage to ask. afterward, the general consensus seemed to be shove it down. they'd had a planet to destroy, and a destroyed planet to escape from, and assessments, and a whole plethora of likewise excuses, and--] ... Blue team members choose whether to kill or be killed, and by whom.
[silence drawn in order to consider his next words - rules, not opinions.]
I'd thought people had to choose friends, but [considering Anders' tone, it was no wonder,] you two aren't, are you?
no subject
[Before all this. Things have actually been slightly more civil between them in the aftermath, but only because he can't bring himself to be so antagonistic towards Pilot anymore. It'd feel petty and hypocritical otherwise.]
The assignment wasn't about friendship. It was about trust. Or, well. That's what they said, anyway. You have to understand, they didn't give us a guarantee that anyone would come back. They told us we could tell people they would try, but they didn't promise anything. And my world is.... [He shakes his head.] I couldn't — can't — abandon it, not the way things are right now.
no subject
[... but then he wondered if Anders spoke too much, words running long and piling on top of each other. something restless settled in Hinata's chest, twisted and festered.]
So you picked him because you trusted he'd go along with it?
[with an accusing edge he didn't catch until too late to stopper, gaze narrowing.]
no subject
[There's no denying the burst of frustration, of defensiveness. Wording it like that makes it sound so— simple, methodical. Like he made a list and checked off options. He can't blame Hinata for coming to that conclusion, not really, but it was a tangled mess. It still is, and he hates the idea that anyone could think the choice came that easily.]
But do you even want to know why? Really? Or are you just here to confirm what you think you already know?
no subject
[prickling in indignation (as if he had any right, now having been put in the situation in the least), the defensiveness doesn't leave as much as it lines his posture, which for Hinata was smothering it but that didn't mean anything for his actual conversational partner.]
[after a terse pause, voice half begrudging, half continued, genuine interest in understanding,]
I didn't message you just to glare and walk away, if that's what you're saying.
no subject
[It's not inflected like a question. It's a familiar sensation, being judged as a criminal before all the facts are out. It's just that this time, Hinata's not necessarily wrong.]
He asked me once, you know, before all of this. If I would trust him. If I would... take a chance, I suppose. He said he trusted me, he trusted the CDC, he trusted everyone on the crew because— well, because. You know how he is.
I told him no. [beat] I told him it didn't work that way. That trust had to be earned.
[He takes a deep breath, and he can't maintain eye contact. He studies the scuffs on the toes of his boots instead.]
Pilot, he... [he struggles a little to find the right words.] He believes in the CDC. Or, he believes in this, at least, the crew, in doing whatever it is we're tasked to do. Asking him, I thought.... It wasn't asking someone to blindly die for me or for my world, it could be for the crew. For something he believed in. It could give the death some— small bit of meaning, instead of just slaughter on orders.
[He snags again on simmering anger at the end, and he rubs his hands roughly over his face to quash it. The whole assignment was pointless, suffering inflicted simply because it could be, and any time he thinks about it for more than just a passing moment, he has to bring himself down all over again. He doesn't feel like he was successful, giving it meaning.]
It doesn't make it better. If you want to blame me for what happened to him, you won't see argument from me. [His voice rasps slightly, weighed down with everything he's been carrying since it happened. He hadn't voiced all of this to anyone, before today.] But that's why.
no subject
[biting the inside of his cheek, the words don't pass the sudden lump in his throat. he'd felt hot with incredulity not a moment before, but that moment hadn't included Anders' explanation, and as the magician spoke - anger ebbed, abated, replaced piece by piece with dread. asking Pilot to die for something he blindly believed in didn't strike him as any better than asking a person to die for their trusted ally; asking a person to die at all, then, wasn't that the problem?]
[yes, it was.]
[indiscernible, lacking in merit, Pilot carried a belief not at all enviable. Anders-- he'd approached the man with an obvious bias that couldn't disappear with a single explanation, no matter how idealistic it was. however, it could be smothered under heavier thoughts, and so.]
He... [eventually, one hand tugging at his shirt's hem.] ... Couldn't've said no. And that's on you.
[this is fact.]
But that doesn't make you any more guilty than the rest, as the only point seemed to be to find people who wouldn't decline. So your only real fault's in following orders, and I-- [don't know. mouth twisting down, shoulders hunching defensively, every line derisive,] - I think we all destroyed a planet under orders, so how can I really blame you?
[that is, somehow, an accusation.]
no subject
Easily. [His voice is hollow.] I blame me. I wish he would, most days.
no subject
[Eyes widen.]
Are you kidding? [mood whiplash, but somehow - where he'd been ready to walk away with some level of understanding, that single sentence flipped everything on its head. As before, his face snapped into the picture of anger in a blink.] Just because it'd make it easier for you?
[hands curled into fists despite the fact Anders could've easily leveled him with one blow. Pilot? Blame him for what he'd done willingly? And give up that small meaning to an otherwise pointless ordeal? That just--- added insult to fatal injury.]
no subject
[And he hasn't asked it of Pilot, as much as he'd wanted to. As nauseating as it has been, to watch Pilot celebrate his newfound faith in the CDC and his goddess, the most Anders could bring himself to ask was not to be thanked for it.]
But I won't pretend it isn't true.
no subject
Tell him why. Talk to him honestly; maybe you'll get rid of some of that pathetic self-pity.
no subject
Yes. And you're in the perfect position to give advice, aren't you? You've put a gun to an innocent person's head and shattered their skull to protect what's important to you.
[He breathes in slowly, and visibly forces himself to back down. Hinata isn't wrong, but Anders is stubborn, and tied at the hip to his own self-flagellation. He isn't likely to take the suggestion.
His chin drops and he takes a step back to reclaim the space between them: restraint.]
You've gotten what you wanted. Are we finished?
no subject
[Anders shows restraint; backs up, gives them breathing room, offers a clear exit. doesn't deny anything - agrees, even, though he'd have to be more of a fool to take that as an agreement that he'd say anything. Hinata takes none of it -- crowds in again, hands raising to attempt to grasp onto the front of the other's clothing and give a harsh shove.]
[logic dictated he should've backed off someone able to own up to being a murderer. so much for that.]
You've killed. Under orders! Why are you so cowardly?
no subject
[Fear. Brutality. An understanding of how heavy the hand of the organization is against their backs of their necks.]
But it didn't have to be him. It could have been me. I have to live with that, and so does he. [His volume has dipped, an active attempt to reduce attention from passersby. It might be pointless now.] If that's not enough for you— then it isn't enough. Nothing I say will change that. But don't stand here and act like it's simple.
no subject
[mouth opens around if that's not enough for you -]
[- and snaps closed as the last line pulls him out of his single-minded frustration and sticks his feet a little more on the ground. not spectacularly. the anger doesn't disappear, only dissipate, and even then, only a touch. any attention they get from passer-bys goes right over his head.]
It's not-- that's not-- [except it sort of was. shuffling a step back, head lowering.]
Your explanation was plenty. [the due thank you can't make it out of his throat.] That's all you had to answer.
[so maybe it would be best to go. he can't really force himself to make the first step, either.]
no subject
If you're finished.
[A dismissal. If Hinata doesn't want to be the first to leave, Anders is happy to do the honors for him. He steps around and past him, back towards the open brightness of the main street.
He doesn't look back.]